Castle by the Sea
by La Fata Morgana
Summary: Set after the War of the Ring...


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**Castle by the Sea**

as written in roleplay by   
**Kabanas** and **Morgana**   
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**Disclaimer: **Everything you recognize belongs to Tolkien. Everything you don't belongs to Kabanas and I. Once again, Kris as Legolas, myself as Laurelome.   
  


Tinfalas, the royal castle of Legolas the Valiant. Home to the King of Elves, it was situated between the mountains of Gondor, close to the Bay of Belfalas. There, Legolas finally found what he had been searching for all of his life. The sea. The company of water. The smell of her salt ebbing and flowing at night, the crash of her waves greeting him every morning. He had a wanderlust for the ocean since well before his mission with the Fellowship those many years ago, a restlessness which was never satisfied until he visited the sands of Ithilien. It was easy enough to find. He simply followed the sun until he smelled the ocean. It quickly became home. He was struck so much by the water, in fact, that he scarcely noticed the woman who had followed him straight to shore. 

The woman who gazed up at the stars that night and wished the same thoughts became his wife, later on his Queen. In Laurelome's honor, Tinfalas was lavished in colors of red and gold, to match his bride's unusual hair. Peace was instilled throughout the land because of it, or so Legolas kept on teasing her about. Regardless, they reunited after the Evil was put to rest, and the Company disbanded to live out their respective lives with the reward of fame and glory. As for this particular morning, it played out as all the others had. Something different was always brewing at Tinfalas. The King's tall, fair figure stood before an open balcony, surveying the dawn's activities from is vantage point high up from the royal bedroom's main observatory. 

Tinfalas was a monolith castle, with walls decorated with crawling ivy and beautiful cypresses. It was comfortably close to the water but was distinctly set near the cliffside, where it could be distinguished away from the lower houses. It was a neat and orderly scene, with gray-attired fishermen darted in an out of boats. The King lifted his arms as two servant women helped him into his majestic emerald robe. It was another's duty to braid his long, silver hair. For all the worries that preceded his rule over Tinfalas, Legolas maintained everlasting calm. The soft, youthful glow of his handsomeness never left his face. 

Something was indeed astir within the walls of the palace at Tinfalas. Namely the arrival of an entourage from Minas Tirith, though none of Gondor's royal family accompanied, just state officials who often visited the last elven colony on Endor for the sheer relaxation that could be experienced in this idyllic land. None the less, they had to be entertained in a matter of state. And outside the royal chambers, the Queen sat whilst her ladies brought out a variety of her gowns to decide from. Like her husband in the next room, a young elven woman stood behind Laurelome's seat, decorating her reddish-gold hair with small strands of pearls and a golden cirlet encrusted with rubies. Finally she cast eyes that matched the waves foaming at the base of the cliffs out a paned window. 

The sun was midway across the sky, and the clamor from the courtyards far below the towering chambers, the sounds of horses and litters arriving rose to the brilliant blue sky. Somewhat pained at having her moments of selection cut short, Laurelome pointed languidly at a mellow-hued blue gown that complemented her far-seeing Elven eyes perfectly. Those eyes stared fixed at the sea while she was dressed. Finally, with a gentle smile of dismissal to the ladies assisting her, Laurelome, with the quietest of steps, entered into the warmly colored observatory, the servant garbing Legolas stepping away from the king to curtsey respectfully before returning to her braiding. Stepping up to Legolas' side, she smiled sidelong at him. "A beautiful morning, Amarion," Laurelome greeted in the High Elven tounge. 

"The sun by my side." Legolas gently turned his gaze in her direction, his elegantly high brows and sleek jawline both complimented by a sharp, loving smile. King or no, Legolas moved with ineffable grace. In him was a royal bloodline which extended for a millenia. He already had the makings of a king before he founded Tinfalas. Pausing a moment to graciously thank and pardon his hairdresser, Legolas waited a moment before placing a proper kiss atop his queen's porcelain brow. He moved with her to the edge of the balcony, watching the wharf slowly fill with bodies and the morning's catch. 

"There is news from Aragorn," he started, eyes transfixed on the bay's cerulean horizon. "A bit of an impromptu visit away from his kingdom. He will be bringing his youngest daughter. If I had anything to say about it, I believe the Ranger has gone soft. I am curious to meet this persuasive young Gilraen of his." 

She returned his kiss, sliding her hand around his own atop the balcony's rail. It was a beautiful day in Ithilien, and their balcony wound almost the entire way around the tower, providing a panoramic view of forests to the north and east, plains fading into desert on the south, and sea to the east. A smile lit her delicate Elven features at news of Elessar's impending arrival with his youngest daughter. Of course, the King and Queen of the Elves had attended the birthingday celebrations of each of Aragorn and Arwen's _many_ daughters, and their one son, heir to the throne of the twin realms. But it was rare that the royal children would venture from Minas Tirith to the coast of Belfalas. "I should very much like to meet her as well. We also have officials to be greeted, my love." 

The king cast a somewhat unpleasant glance over his shoulder. Duties. Why was it that such a small word entitled such large responsibitlies? "Ah, yes. Ambassadors from the north. I shall hope for news from Mirkwood." Fixing another smile on his face, Legolas stroked his palm down the length of his wife's silken hair, placing his lips close to the charming tip of her elven ear. 

"And perhaps dissuade them from invading our solace like this in the future, so close to our anniversary." The barest of kisses graced her ear. Someone was full of mirth this morning. 

Carnimirie turned her head to the side only slightly to catch his lips in a gentle kiss. Eyes full of as much amusement as his heart today, she replied demurely, "I have already seen to it that they are lodged in the manors by the cliffs. We have naught to do but welcome them to our home, beloved." It was indeed nearing their anniversary, which prompted a thought of having a new gown comissioned into the queen's mind. 

"Or would you have me lodge them in the stables?" Her innocent question was far deeper than it seemed, her gentle tone, reminiscant of a quiet stream, holding her own mirth. "Or the galley of a ship, perhaps," she added, picking away at the source of humor once more. 

He suppressed a wind of laughter that threatened to break his composure. "I do not believe mine ears. The most hospitable woman in all of Ithilien, full of mischief too?" Enfolding her beautiful hand in his, the King led her down the small stone steps into their bedroom. The decor was breathtaking. Wooden and silver lamps hung in every corner, life-sized ferns crafted in jade glass lined the walls, and their massive canopy bed was set in front of a majestic scenery of the mountains, woven into a scarlet and golden tapestry. 

Golden scrolls neatly littered a mahogany table carved with a map of Middle Earth on its countertop. Scarcely anyone had ever set eyes on the King and Queen's royal chambers. The preciousness of its sheer grandeur was the reason why. Legolas stopped before a framed bow displayed on one of the walls and looked upon it with some interest. "I suppose it would be too much trouble to invite our guests out to the Archer's Range?" Laurelome knew what was on his mind. 

The Red Jewel of her people chuckled softly, her alabaster hand leaving his to trace over the gently gleaming black wood. In days past she had scarcely seen him without such armaments, "Somehow I think that would... marr your visit with Aragorn when he comes," Laurelome answered with a mock admonishing tone. Her eyes came to rest on her husband, all silver and pale moonlight in the golden-red tapestries. It only served to highlight how handsome he was. 

Her hands moved elsewhere, clasping over an item contrasting to the ebony bow she had just caressed, but a harp of white wood, engraved in the scroll and decoration of Lothlorien. A sadness passed over her pert features for a moment at the thought of the woods to the north, even now losing it's light now it's mistress had left Middle-Earth. "Ai," she murmurred. Laurelome delicately plucked a chord and smiles up at Legolas. "The sooner we have greeted them properly, the sooner they will fall to the trappings of awe at the sights of Tinfalas." 

"Then let us make haste, then." Legolas claimed the distance from their bed to the double doors in lengthy strides. "To the breakfast hall." Outside, a sentry readily bowed to His Highness and was bid to fetch the royal emissaries from their guest chambers. Meanwhile, Legolas moved on to another messenger and asked how the preparations for the anniversary banquet were going. The annual reminder of the King and Queen's undying love for each other was one of the most noted celebrations in Ilithien. For one night, the seashore was going to glow alit with bonfires. It gave the two monarchs a chance to meet their subjects, poor, rich, young and old alike. Aside from his casual visits to the neighboring villages, the King was swamped with official duties though he loved taking his work on the road with him. He always was more comfortable amongst the meek and the humble. It suited his gracious personality. 

Before the hallway, Legolas extended a hand out of the folds of his handsome robe. "Shall we, Starlight?" 

The queen declined a comment in response to their dignified exeunt of the bedchambers, merely following at the king's side, she nodded politely to the messengers delivering him his news. While Legolas spoke briefly as to celebration planning, Laurelome took aside another messenger and bade him have the tailor sent to her chambers later that afternoon with fabrics. The couple seemed to finish their conferences simultaneously. 

By then, they had reached the entrance of the dining hall, and dismissed the elves bearing their wishes. Laurelome's hand seemed to fit perfectly atop Legolas', and she smiled affably her answer right after she leaned to place a kiss upon his cheek. "We shall." Her eyes shifted forward to where the dignitaries would be once the guilded doors were opened. 

The spiraling trip down to the breakfast hall was leisurely and far, but the cutaway columns provided Legolas and Laurelome with an unparalleled view of the western ocean. The lovers glided as if on ice, their robes dragging across the flagstone like retreating ships. Someday, the King thought, the journey across the sea and to the Undying Lands would await them. 

For now, however, Legolas was content to deal with more eathly matters. It was pleasant to see neither party had been kept waiting. The royal servants were uncanny in the ways of reading into their sovereigns' wishes. Ithilien was a peaceful kingdom, Tinfalas even more so as a palace. It was kept rightly so, under Legolas' capable hands. By the time, the King and Queen arrived at the breakfast hall, their guests were already seated. In greeting, they arose as one collective, bowing deeply to their sovereigns. "Good morrow, Sons of the North. Please, seat yourselves." 

For a handful of these dignitaries, it was their first time to the last colony of Elves, and at first sight looked strangely upon the queen's unusual looks. Her smile, however, warmly distracted them as she gestured in accompanyment to Legolas' words. "It is our pleasure to welcome you to Tinfalas, and it is our sincere wish that your stay be as comfortable as possible. Should you require anything at all, do not hesitate to ask." 

Laurelome, if she had been humble as a harper, was even more so as a queen, though her regal poise convincingly dissuade many's thoughts otherwise. it had been a surprise all those years ago when the Prince of Mirkwood had even spoken to her in the gardens of Rivendell. Now, here was a lady much loved, as her husband was, by their people, and held her position with quiet dignity. 

Many of those strange looks were due to the fact that the King looked no different than any other common stable boy or a young sailor in Ithilien. Some of the ambassadors seemed twice Legolas elder in physical appearance. But the "boy" was a respectable King, the highest ruler, at that, of the glorious few in the elven race, and he held his countenance with resolute dignity. 

Although he appeared harmless, Legolas' skill at archery was undeniable. He was a deadly archer by trade, and his deeds with the Fellowship preceded him. The King sat himself upon one of his many ivory thrones while the collective followed. The breakfast table was a marvelous sight of fancy candles and food shaped like delicate swans. 

He caught himself taking a sharp inhale of the strong smells before raising his cup of wine towards the gathered. "My friends, my brothers, Earendil bless you. It is to our immense pleasure that you have joined us so close to our anniversary. We have had so little visitors since the change in season. Word has spread that the northern factions are prospering as well as we and for that--" Here, the King rose his chalice higher. "To each our own health and happiness."   


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To be continued as two storylines converge... 

~Morgana 


End file.
